Living
by Dragonflys-Girl
Summary: Stella Bonasera, let's be clear about something: I have no intention of letting the woman I love go, and so I am just going to keep holding onto you until you get that into your head. Post-ep: Spoilers Season 4 up until Admission. MacStella
1. Living

**Title: **Living

**Author: **KiKi

**Disclaimers:** All the CSI: NY characters belong to CBS and Alliance Atlantis and all those who own them rightfully.

**Spoilers:** The Thing About Heroes

**Notes: **Life has been a real pain, and it kept me from writing for a long time... but it seems to calm more down, and really, this season of CSI NY is really too good to pass up... so yes, please, let me know what you think... I'm a little nervous... it's been a LONG while since I've posted anything... any suggestions are recommended...

--

Never before in his life had he been so relieved to see someone shot.

It was selfish, but he would not exchange that feeling for anything in the world. He was hugely relieved when the bullet had entered someone other than his partner.

Keeping Stella Bonasera safe and out of harm's way had become his mission in life, and his mantra. Mac Taylor would not know what to do with himself if something had happened to his partner. He assumed it would be akin to living in a vegetative state.

The worst part of the whole ordeal with Andy Bradford was not the knowledge that he might not live to see another day. No, the possibility that he would die worried him less than the sick trap the clearly disturbed man was setting up. The daunting fact that Stella would eventually lead his team to his rescue and charged right into Andy's killing machine made him sick to the stomach. There was no doubt in his mind he would trigger the bullet aimed for him before he would let Stella step into the trap.

After it had all come down, and the adrenalin rush had passed, his world turned into a daze. Everything around him was buzzing, and he felt like he was moving through space without being grounded. Everyone around him was rushing to do something – the uniforms were attempting to secure the perimeters. Don was barking orders left and right. Paramedics kept trying to check him over despite repeated insistence he was fine. Danny and Hawkes had just roughly wrestled Andy Bradford away after taking his prints and DNA sample. Lindsay was standing by, surveying the scene and ready to process.

His eyes were bleary. He knew his thoughts weren't clear. He needed his anchor, and she was nowhere to be seen inside his prison. He needed to be re-assured that she was fine.

Finally, he located her by the train station's entrance, staying with Jimmie as the paramedics loaded him onto the ambulance. Even though he had worn a vest, the bullet still pierced through. Mac could see the blood on his shirt and on Stella's hands. The sight made him sick. It could easily have been Stella lying on that stretcher as her life bled out of her.

He knew he needed to be close to her, to feel her warmth. Without saying a word, he walked up to her and stood close enough to appease his mind that she was living and well. It calmed him – somehow – and reminded him that it was over and his personal nightmare had not played out.

She seemed to have sensed his presence without turning her head away from Jimmie. Her hands were stained with Jimmie's blood, and she had a hard look on her face. Wordlessly, she moved to stand beside him, close enough that their forearms were brushing.

The world around them continued to buzz. He could see his team had followed him out, awaiting his orders.

Stella discreetly glanced at him, and at his nod, took over, "Lindsay and Danny, work the scene. Jackie and Reese are on their way to help. Hawkes, I need you to head to the hospital and follow-up on Jimmie and Drew," then, she turned to Mac, "I still need to process you, you know?"

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital?" Danny looked straight at him, and Mac shook his head negative.

"I am fine, Danny. I just need to get a few hours of rest to let the drug wear off. I'm hands-off on this case, so take everything you have to Stella."

"Well, you guys know what to do. I'll be on my cell if you need anything," she dismissed the team decisively.

Upon reaching SUV, Stella popped the trunk and started processing Mac while he observed her.

Mac's senses were in overdrive. Having Stella so close and having all her concentration on him was a new experience. He loved watching her work.

They didn't need words to communicate; he knew and anticipated her moves. Just as they would work seamlessly through a scene, they moved through the process in a comfortable silence.

Neither of them spoke again until they had settled on his couch and the smell of brewing coffee filled the apartment.

They sat close together as they sat in silence, letting the electric charge filled them every time their arms brushed against each other.

"Thanks," he eventually broke the silence between them.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Why are you thanking me?" she sounded amused.

"For taking me home," he wanted to say more - much more. _Thanks for finding me; thanks for caring enough about me to be here; thanks for not getting shot at; thanks for being safe_.

She smiled, one that as if to say she knew he wanted to say something more, and squeezed his arm gently.

"That's what partners do, Mac. That's what friends do," she replied, then more seriously, "I am glad you are alright. I wouldn't know what to do if this turned out differently. You are - I would have been lost, you know?"

"I do," he admitted. Their eyes matched, and all the meanings left unsaid were conveyed. "It would have been my worst nightmare, you getting hurt and my not being able to do anything about it."

She smiled her understanding and stood from the couch, surveying the room as if she had not spent weeks a few years back practically living in this apartment picking up his pieces after Claire died.

"Your taste in design has changed," she commented while admiring the frames and small displays on his fireplace mantle.

"Oh, those - Peyton loves those," the words slipped out before he could process what he was saying.

She turned away at his words, but not before he spotted the flash of pain in her eyes. His relationship with Peyton had been a touchy topic between them, one they had never addressed.

Hesitantly, he stood up and moved towards her, "Stella?"

"What happened between the two of you?" her voice wavered a little as she asked. "Why didn't she come back from London?"

It struck suddenly him how little Stella knew about his relationship with Peyton. She had been the first to know about the budding romance, and the first to show support when she realized Peyton would not be coming back from London. Yet, for the first time in his life, Mac found he could not bring himself to share with her what was happening. She was his best friend, and he had shared with her his worst nightmares. However, he just couldn't bring himself to talk about Peyton with her.

Maybe, subconsciously, he knew how betrayed she felt by his action. They had danced around their feelings all these years. She knew of his hesitation, of his weariness of mixing work with his persona life. Yet, with Peyton, he was starting a relationship with someone in the office, and was being open about it. He had started something with someone in the office other than HER.

"She said she needed to be with her family," he finally answered her question. "She wanted a commitment. She wanted a future. She wanted something I couldn't give to her."

Simply, Stella nodded at her words. When she turned back to face him again, he couldn't read her emotions. She had shut him out emotionally, and once again, he felt he was navigating without a compass.

Her cell phone beeped, breaking the tension between them. Glancing quickly at the device, she murmured, "I should head out. It's late and I need to check on the gang."

Reaching, Mac put a hand on her arm to stop her as she turned away towards the door, "Stella."

She held her position, and Mac walked to stand in front of her, brushing back her curls to get a good look at her face.

Her face was still void of any emotions. She tried to turn away but he held firm, placing a hand under her chin to stop her from hiding. Never more clearly could he see the damage that had been done to their relationship because of Peyton. He only hope his realization had not come too late, that she would still trust him with herself.

Impulsively, he moved closer. Their breaths meshed together and he could smell her shampoo. Instinctive, he started leaning forward until his nose bumped into hers. He was moving slowly, giving her ample time to move away. But her eyes were closed. Their lips met softly, grazing against one another's.

Mac pulled back as the electric charge surged through him at the gentle touch of their lips. He looked straight into her eyes and watched, fascinated, as emotions were flashing through Stella's green orbs.

Mac Taylor rarely acted on impulse. He was too meticulous, too rational, to let emotions drive him, but the kiss felt right, so right that he knew he would not be able to stop himself from wanting more.

"Mac," Stella's voice was soft, and he could detect the hint of confusion, "what - "

"I hadn't been living for a long time, Stella. I thought I was with Peyton, but then, I realized after she sent me that letter from London, that I was only cheating myself. Sure, I was going through the motions with Peyton, but I wasn't living. I wasn't who I used to be," he paused and looked at Stella closely, waiting for her to turn and looked at him. "I wasn't who I am when I am with you."

She smiled at his words, a shy, small smile, but it was all the encouragement Mac needed. He leaned in again to kiss her and could feel her responding to his kiss. Slow, gentle kisses that affirmed their feelings. There was nothing rushed about it.

When a second message arrived at Stella's phone, they both groaned in frustration.

"I really need to go," she sighed.

"I will see you later," he promised before leaning down to steal one more brief kiss from her.

They walked together to the door, his hand on the small of her back. He helped her with her coat, and leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. "Be safe," he requested.

"I will," came her promise. The twinkles were back in her eyes, "Welcome back."


	2. Too Little, Too Late

**Title: **Living2 – Too Little, Too Late

**Author: **KiKi

**Disclaimers:** All the CSI: NY characters belong to CBS and Alliance Atlantis and all those who own them rightfully.

**Spoilers:** DOA for a Day

**Notes: **Thanks to the many of you who have left me reviews for the last chapter. I'm glad there are a number of you out there who liked the first part. It really gave me the added boost to get back into writing again. I think I am venturing a little off character. I've tried my best to fix it, but I guess my brain's not being too cooperative on this matter. This one is sort of a tie-over piece to link it to the next chapter, so please bear with me...

--

Stella Bonasera was a coward.

Twice now she had spotted him in a somewhat intimate position in the lab with another woman. Both times, she had chosen to flee.

She was not a meek person by nature. Some would even call her confrontational. Yet, both times, she had chosen the cowardly way out while her heart was breaking.

She was a walking conundrum – fierce in life but fragile when it comes to her emotions.

"Well, at least I know now he will have a _helluva_ time cheating on me if we ever decide to move forward," she chuckled humourlessly to herself over a glass of red wine. She was not a drinker, but she needed the release tonight.

The last time when she spotted him with Peyton, her carefully constructed world had collapsed around her. It brought her to the realization that there was more than work that stood between her with Mac Taylor, seeing how he had no problem embracing another employee of the lab at work.

It had taken her weeks to learn how to be around him as his best friend and his partner again, even though she had not been able to fully pick up all of the pieces of her shattered world. His relationship with the ME continued to be a sore subject between them until 2 weeks ago.

That night in his apartment had opened up doors that Stella had thought were closed forever; the shared kisses renewed her hope that someday, somehow, she would get her happily ever after with the man of her dreams.

Maybe it was the near-death experience that had caused Mac to open up as he did, but the liberation from his self-imposed isolation was short lived. Within two days, he had reverted back to his guarded self. If anything, he was even more distanced from her.

She didn't know what to do – if there was anything left to do indeed. His choice in the matter had seemed abundantly clear to her, especially after what she witnessed in his office tonight.

She probably would be able to withstand the distance – both emotional and physical – had she not witnessed the intimate moment between Mac Taylor and Robin Gates, but her barely patched together heart was once again shattered into pieces.

This time, there was no remedy, no cure, no glue strong enough that would mend what had been broken.

Shattered.

"Why did you go about trusting what he said in the first place," she chastised herself, and drained the remaining wine in her glass in one gulp.

She was on her way to getting seriously drunk, and she welcomed that feeling.

She needed the buzz tonight to deal with everything.

Seeing that she was supposed to work the morning shift the next day, she should be mindful of the oncoming hang-over, but at this point, she was beyond caring. At the moment, Stella Bonasera's thoughts are consumed by the sole need to forget. Everything else became secondary.

The clock struck midnight when knocks sounded at her door. She attempted to ignore the intrusion, wanting instead to wallow in her own misery alone. But whoever outside her apartment did not seem to have gotten the message.

As the knockings grew incessantly louder, Stella pushed herself from the couch to open the door, and found Mac Taylor standing with an uneasy expression on his face.

"What are you doing here, Mac?" she asked nervously. It was one thing to get drunk to forget about Mac Taylor in the solitude of her own apartment; it was another to have Mac Taylor finding out about her self-medication.

"You're alright," he breathed, his features visibly relaxed. "You didn't answer your phone."

"I'm off the clock," she shrugged. "Mac, why are you here?"

"I was worried," he replied, and moved to enter her apartment. When Stella didn't move from the doorway, he raised an eyebrow in question, "Stell?"

"It's late, Mac. Can any of this wait until tomorrow morning?"

He visibly flinched at her words, and if Stella wasn't on her way to getting drunk, she might have registered how harsh they sounded. Never once in her friendship with Mac Taylor had she turned the man away. She had always welcomed him – delighted in his presence in her life.

Not anymore. Stella Bonasera needed to learn to be by herself and survive a world without Mac Taylor.

"You weren't answering your phone," he murmured. "I tried calling but when I kept getting your voicemail, I needed to make sure..."

He didn't finish the thought, but Stella knew what he was trying to say. Mac Taylor was worried because he couldn't reach her. Mac Taylor still cared about her.

After he had had taken care of Robin.

And no, Stella Bonasera wasn't jealous. Not at all.

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and saw the genuine concern in them. She had never been able to refuse Mac, and this time it was no different. She vowed it would be something she would work on immediately, however.

Moving aside, Stella let him enter, but immediately regretted the decision for his eyes were now trained on the almost empty bottle of red wine on her coffee table.

"You were drinking?" he turned sharply to face her and asked. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I know you, Stella, and you don't drink."

"What made you think you know me still?" she couldn't help but retorted. She was hurting, with an almost unbearable ache in her heart.

If she could separate her emotions from his, she might enjoy seeing his pained expression. As it stood, she regretted her words almost immediately as his eyes widened in surprise at her stinging words.

The two stood in silence in her apartment. The air was tense between them, so thick and dense she wasn't sure how she managed to draw in oxygen and breathe.

"I thought I know you very well," he answered belatedly. "I thought we know each other almost better than ourselves."

She could only nod at his sentimental words. The emotions were welling within him, and she was not at all sure she could keep her emotions checked if she had spoken.

"Why won't you talk to me, Stell?" he asked again.

"Because it doesn't matter anymore. Those feelings that I have – they are foolish illusions. I am just trying to get over them, then I will be good as new."

The widening of his eyes demonstrated to her that he understood her meaning, just as she had expected him to. He moved to touch her, but she moved away, marching on with her speech instead.

"You know, when I was four, my social worker came to St. Basil's to take me away. They put my best dress on me and packed what little I had. The Capers had come to the orphanage earlier and had expressed an interest in adopting me. So that day, I stood with my social worker at their door step and waited nervously until the official introductions were made. But then, I waited, and waited, and my heart kept sinking. I knew what was happening. The Capers had changed their mind last minute. They didn't want a bony Greek-Italian girl after all."

She forced out the story in one breath. It had been a long time since she had visited that part of herself, and it still stung. The rejection was something she would never forget.

"You see, that day, I went back to St. Basil's and picked myself up. I made myself get over the feelings of excitement and the expectations of being loved, and I was fine."

She couldn't look at Mac after her revelations. This was a part of her life she had never told anyone, but at this moment, she found it strangely fitting to share with Mac. Rejection had been a constant in her life. Rejection and shattered dreams.

She must have gotten lost in her thoughts, because all of a sudden, she felt Mac's arms on hers and they jostled her back to the present. She lifted her head to find that Mac had moved to stand in front of hers, his blue eyes looking straight into hers.

"What if I don't want you to forget?"

She shook her head sadly, "Don't do this to me, Mac. I need to accept the reality that there are some things in life I can never have, so that I can move on."

He didn't comment. Instead, he just kept on holding onto her arms, a little tighter than before, "I don't want to let go."

Stella grew quiet as she absorbed what Mac was trying to say. The mixed signals were testing her sanity.

"I saw you tonight, Mac," she finally murmured, closing her eyes at the on slaughter of intense jealousy and pain at the image. "And I want you to know that I am happy for you."

"No, Stella, no," he whispered softly, turning her so they stood face-to-face.

"I think Robin would be good for you," she said in a voice laced with pain. "She's fierce but she also has her wits about her."

She wanted to say something more, but she choked. The words were there, but her voice failed her.

He looked at her sadly, but didn't say anything either.

The tension was almost unbearable. She wanted his reassurance, his explanation, something to let her know that he still cared and she hadn't imagined that night at his apartment.

He stood motionless, however, with a gaze so intense that she had to look away. Looks weren't enough anymore, however. She needed more from him.

It wasn't fair that he, a party equally responsible for creating her dreams, would destroy her as such. But then, as Sr. Rosa loved to say, "Life is rarely fair. We can only accept and do the best we can to move on. God knows what He is doing."

And the best she could do was to return things to the way they were.

"It's getting late, Mac, and I have the early shift tomorrow."

He looked at her still with an expression she wasn't sure how to read, but he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her.

She walked him silently to the door, missing his hand on the small of her back. She forced herself to stand up taller, to remind herself that there were things she simply had to get used to. She did it once when Peyton entered the picture. She could do it again.

Stella watched as he left and closed the door after him. It was all too much, and she found herself lacking the strength to support herself upright. Leaning against the door, she rested her head against the cold wood and let the tears come.

Faintly, so faintly that she almost missed it, she heard his soft declaration, "There is nothing between Robin and I. Nothing. Nobody ever measured up to you."

And she wept.

Too little, too late.


	3. Holding Sacred

**Title: **Living3 – Holding Sacred

**Author: **KiKi

**Disclaimers:** All the CSI: NY characters belong to CBS and Alliance Atlantis and all those who own them rightfully.

**Spoilers:** Right Next Door

**Notes: **My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I had thought I'd be able to send this one out before I left for my trip but that didn't happen… didn't have time to reply to each one of the reviews either, but I've read them and wanna say thank you! Also thanks to those sticking with this story… As I'm writing this story, I'm cursing myself and my little angst streak... what was my brain thinking when I wrote the last chapter?? Hopefully this will set the story back on track a little...

Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :)

--

Stella Bonasera has been lying through her teeth.

She was not staying in a hotel. He knew, because he had been watching her.

She had been showering in the locker room, changing into clothes bought from the nearest Macy's and stored in her locker, eating at the cafe across the street from the lab, and sleeping in her office chair. For some reason, she had turned down not only his offer of a guest room, but also the offers of spare beds and couches from numerous colleagues at the lab.

He knew she had been sleeping in the office, but he had hesitated towards doing something about it - until tonight.

Each day after her shift had ended, she would go and wonder the streets of New York until it was late enough that the lab would be mostly deserted so not to draw too much attention to her sleeping arrangements. He wouldn't have found out about it had he not been dragged into a meeting with Sinclair that went on and on until too late.

So, here he sat in her office, waiting for her to return. Regardless of how she would react, she needed to start taking care of herself. He needed her to start taking care of herself. Stella could get mad at him for interfering all she wanted, but her wellbeing was priority.

It pained him to see how far they had drifted apart in a few short weeks, but really, he was the only one to blame. His darn inability to connect had crept in and destroyed what they were building. The pain he saw from her features at her apartment that night wasn't going to go away any time soon.

Since that evening, things had been tense at work. Were it not for the need to keep the lab functioning, he doubted Stella would even bother talking to him. As it had been, the guarded expression and cold reception were enough to chill him to the core. The whole lab had noticed the change, but they were wise enough to keep their questions to themselves. Neither Stella nor he was inclined to explain what had transpired.

She was hurting, and the worst thing was he couldn't do anything about it. She refused to be alone in the same room with him, and he did not to try to talk to her with all the lab techs were around fishing for gossip. Flack had taken upon himself to be their mediator without being asked nor prying for more information. Just like with the Miranda Bauer scene. Her hesitation to heed to his request had hurt, but he was grateful to Flack for stepping in to get her to get some rest.

He would forever wonder if he should not have sent her home that night. Maybe then she would not be blaming herself for not noticing an abducted child was right next door the whole time.

Tragic as the incident might have been, it had allowed him some reprieve in his relationship with Stella. From the moment he appeared in her burnt down apartment with a coffee to offer, her defences seemed to have lowered where he was concern. She even reached out to him for comfort.

Throughout the day they were working close to find out the cause of the fire, and then the whereabouts of Bailey, to bury Bonnie Dillard with evidence, and momentarily, they were just like their "old" selves. He felt close to her again, and he relished those feelings.

It had been 3 days since Bonnie Dillard was booked and Austin Tanner had returned home with his birth mother, and Stella had re-installed the walls around herself. Gone were the sparkles in her eyes and the teasing smile on her lips.

Once again, Mac Taylor was left grasping for what he had chased away with his sins.

"What are you doing here?"

He jumped up at her voice, and cursed himself for not paying better attention.

"Waiting," he paused, and when she didn't take the bait, he continued, "Stella, you can't keep sleeping in your office."

"You've done it enough times," she retorted, her eyes blazing with anger as he had expected.

"I did," he acknowledge – there was no getting around that. "And so I know it's not good for you."

"Why does it matter?"

He sighed. Stella Bonasera could be stubborn as hell when she wanted, and at this moment, she wanted to be.

"Stella, we need to talk," he finally uttered. She continued to face away from him and refused to acknowledge his words. "I mean it, Stella. We have to talk about it."

She was silent, and he didn't know what to expect anymore. This was not going according to what he had expected would happen, but he should know never to expect anything in dealing with Stella.

"Look, Mac, I really don't know what's there to talk about."

"Then you don' t have to say anything. I will," he said, and winced at how desperate he sounded. He didn't know if he had the words in him to remedy the situation, but he would go down trying. This whole... thing... with Stella was turning him into a different person. "I just want to explain a few things."

She finally turned around to look at him expectantly.

"Come with me, so we can talk outside of the lab," he requested, hoping she would take him up on his offer. They needed to be somewhere away from prying eyes and ears.

She was weary, but in the end, she nodded her assent and walked out the door with him. His hand almost automatically went to the small of her back, but he held back. It wouldn't do him any good to aggravate Stella anymore.

The short ride to a 24-hour family restaurant was made in complete silence – not the comforting silence that they were used to, but an awkward, eerie quietness that neither knew how to deal with. As they entered the almost deserted diner, the waitress immediately waved them over to a booth and brought over coffees.

Silence between them resumed after they had placed their order with the waitress. Stella had reverted to looking away from him, as if she was hoping to be everywhere but sitting across from him.

Maybe she was looking at ways to get out of the conversation, something he would like to do very much at this moment. It was a daunting task he had gotten himself into, but the possibility of losing Stella was motivation enough to march on.

"I'm sorry for how poorly I've handled things," he started and hoped his apology would placate Stella – somewhat. When she still refused to look at him, he grappled for words that he didn't have.

And the silence continued to reign, until, finally, she took pity on him and spoke quietly, "What do you want from me, Mac?"

The pain in her voice broke him, and it drew him further out of his comfort zone. Dealing with emotions had never been his forte. He felt incredibly unequipped to handle the avalanche of feelings running through him.

He sighed, knowing full well that one wrong word, one wrong gesture, could really cost him a chance at happiness with the woman sitting across from him. "I want to re-do the past few weeks if I could," he tried to read her expressions, to see through the guard she had thrown up. "I want to have another chance."

"What good will it do?"

The question trumped him. He could go on and promise her how he would be different and how he would give her the stars and the moon, but he couldn't. He could never guarantee her that he would change and not care about the politics and implications, that he would chase away his insecurities of failing at the relationship.

"I don't want to give you empty promises," he finally answered after a long pause, "That would be lying to you. The truth is, I can't promise things will be drastically different. I am still me, but if nothing else, these past few weeks are all the motivation I need to make changes."

He sat nervously, watching her reaction. He knew what he said was not even close to the graveling he should do, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to her just because he was desperate - yes, desperate - to salvage the relationship.

"What about work and everyone else?" she posed, her eyes softening just a touch.

"Work has been my refuge since - since Claire, Stell, and you know that. It's a risk - and it'll always be a risk, more so now that Sinclair has taken up the job to constantly be a pain. It will always be something we have to consider because it's such a big part of who I am - and who you are."

"And it will be the most important thing in your life, no matter what," she quietly stated, rather than asked.

He pondered her words. Was work really the most important thing in his life? The knee-jerk answer would be yes, it was that important, because the alternative scared him. Work he could control; He had the science, the methodology, the procedures. It helped him shake off the helplessness after the Towers fell. But as he looked across the table at his friend, his partner, he couldn't bear to agree.

She changed it, caused him to re-prioritize his life, shoved him into unchartered territories and left him grasping for a lifeline. He could not bear to imagine what his life would be reduced to if he lost her. Just thinking back to how close he was to loosing her when Drew Bradford was setting up his trap made him realize exactly how much his thinking had change. How could he honestly say work was the most important thing in his life any more?

Belatedly, he looked up and caught her eyes. Her green orbs were still masked with anger and frustration, but he could see the fear, the pain, the confusion in them.

"No, Stella, it's not," just as quietly, he declared.

He watched her closely as she processed his answer. Confusion won out in her struggle of emotions and he watched, fascinated, as her eyes cleared.

"Mac?" she whispered his name softly, the silent question in her eyes.

"Work will always be a factor, Stell, but there are other things that are more important."

"Such as?"

"Friends, family," he ticked off the easier ones first and slowly returning his gaze to hers. "Partners."

_You_, he wanted to say. He wanted to let her know, but the words were stopped at his throat and he couldn't get it out. He opened and shut his mouth like a goldfish and wished that she could tell what he was thinking, just like the many times before.

And she didn't disappoint. She nodded, "Then what do you suggest we do?"

He had asked himself that same question - what did he want most, right now, with Stella?

"Let me take care of you," he blurted out and quickly continued before her anger could flare again at his suggestion. "I know you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but at the moment, you are not doing that. You're sleeping in the office and letting yourself get run over by the emotions. If you can just let me stay around you, and let me be there for you to lean on when you need someone. I take care of you as much or as little as you would let me."

He watched her intently to wait for her reply. His resolve seemed to have strengthened after his little speech, and he knew, in his gut, that he was doing the right thing. He needed her to be well, even if she would never give him another chance. That was the most important in his life right now. Just as he would give his life to keep her from being harmed, he would let her set the pace and the distance between them as long as she would be content and well.

The air between them was charged with tension. They both were unable to look away. Mac was sure he would burst from the anxiety any minute, but Stella seemed content just staring at him, not giving him an answer.

And just as he thought he would go insane, she pulled him back with one soft phrase.

"Is your room still available?"


	4. What Pefect Felt Like

**Title: **Living4 – What Perfect Felt Like

**Author: **KiKi

**Disclaimers:** All the CSI: NY characters belong to CBS and Alliance Atlantis and all those who own them rightfully.

**Spoilers:** Like Water for Murder

**Notes: **I never thought it'd be so long until I post this chapter, but something happened with my eyes and I couldn't see properly for a few weeks… hence this lateness….

PS: Yes, I do read your reviews, and I do make changes to chapters after I notice glarringly missed mistakes. So, please let me know what you thing :)

And I just read spoilers for the next season… Darn all firefighters CSI NY!!

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She would be here soon, Mac Taylor kept telling himself. She would be here soon and things would all be fine. Soon, she would be back in the kitchen, dressed in his dress shirts (because her clothes were never comfortable enough to lounge in), singing silly songs in Italian and muttering little phrases in Greek while she cooked dinner. Soon, normalcy would return.

Soon, he hoped.

It was unnerving how much her absence was affecting him. It had only been one week, but already, his home felt different without her in it.

The return of Quinn Shelby had thrown him off guard. While it was good to see an old friend, Quinn's unexpected appearance had also brought back memories from a lifetime ago, back before Stella had come into his life. Those memories came crushing back – the flirting in the office, the bonds they shared, the kiss. The damning kiss that had left him guilty for months on end.

Quinn wanted to know if he had ever wondered about what-if's. The truth was, no, he hadn't. It just was not in his make-up to care that deeply for more than one woman. He hadn't contemplated what-if a decade ago, and he hadn't contemplated what-if this time around. He loved Clare, who had been his whole life until the day she was taken from him. She had been his everything.

And now, he loved Stella more than he thought it was humanly possible. While he was a great match with Clare – who understood his tenacity and his honour and his need to serve his country, he has found a perfect match in Stella, who not only understood him, but shared the same passion.

For years, he was hesitant to court her and woo her, to admit that she was the centre of his universe. He never pursued anything, because of fear – fear of what it would do to their work, to the cases they process, to the lab.

Fear of what it would do to him if things were to fall apart, if she decided she would be better off without him.

He had never been melodramatic. He knew, very logically, that the world would not stop spinning, life would not stop, the sky would not fall, and he would not just drop dead with his heart shattered into a million little pieces (not physically, at least). No, those were nothing to be afraid of. What truly feared him was the void that her absence would create in him.

No, that was definitely something to avoid if he wanted to keep his sanity. He had already gone through it once when his own inability to connect had nearly cost him his relationship with Stella. There was no way he would willingly go back to that state of shallow existence.

Unfortunately for him, the Powers that Be had a cruel sense of humour.

While he usually turned a blind eye to the gossips in his lab, he was not deaf, nor was he so ignorant. He simply chose not to pay them any attention.

He knew, with the appearance (or re-appearance) of Quinn Shelby in his lab, he had become the centre of the lab's gossip. He held no illusions that those rumours had not reached Stella's ears.

Most likely, the more daring members of his lab would approach Stella to ask for more information. He knew Flack had already tried, and Stella had "sounded off," as Flack told him later.

He could only hope that she trusted him, that the week they spent together had created a strong enough basis for her to have faith in their relationship.

It had been one week since she moved in with him while she looked for an apartment of her own, and he could still see the shadows of doubt in her eyes. He only fully grasped her emotions surrounding the whole Robin Gates situation one night after they were comfortably buzzed from whiskey. Her insecurities were in play. As she had been hurt way too many times, her mind automatically shut down to protect her from any further heart-break.

So, he spent the week telling her how much he really loved her, how much he regretted his earlier mistakes, and how he would do everything in his power to avoid shutting her out ever again. He wasn't certain if his efforts were enough, but he knew for certain that there would not nothing more important than his proving to her he was serious about this relationship.

She was still distanced at first, wasn't ready to accept him back into his life too fully, but he was nothing but patient and insistent.

The break-through happened on Day 4, the Saturday. They were lounging in the living room, and it was the first time that week she willingly took the seat behind him on the couch and reached out to grasp his hand. That was the first time since "IT' has happened that she initiated any sort of contact on her own, and he could not shake that grin the whole day.

Keys jingling at the door prompted him to look up, and there she was, standing at the doorway.

She looked almost nervous as her eyes swept the apartment, and visibly relaxed when her gaze landed on him.

"Hi," she said, moving slowly into the apartment and moved towards him.

He was up from the couch instantly, his hand reaching out to hers, "Hey."

And then they were silent. He let out a deep breath, relieved to see her through the door.

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to make something quick for you?" he asked gingerly.

She turned to him and smiled gently, "I'm good."

His hand instinctively went out to wrap around her, holding her close to him, his hand running soothingly down her back, relishing the feel of her against him.

Yes, this was definitely a feeling he would not want to be denied of for the rest of his existence.

"Where did you go?" he had to ask, had to know what was going through her head.

"I was just walking around town," she murmured softly.

"Oh," he said. Taking a step back, he looked at her features and decided he would rather have this conversation while they were both seated. Taking her hand in his, he tugged gently and led her back to the couch.

"Stella?" he prompted, waiting. She knew him enough to know what he was asking, and so he waited for any indication from her if she wanted to discuss it now.

"I didn't want to assume anything," she let, almost seemed to be sheepish, "in case you were entertaining."

Her voice was strong and seemingly confident. To those who didn't know her as well, she would appear to be perfectly normal and self-assured. Yet, he knew her, could read her well enough to notice the uncertainties dancing in her eyes.

His hand shot out to hers, hovered for a minute to let her pull away if she wanted to. She stayed put, so he grasped her hand in his gently, "You have nothing to worry about, you know?"

She smiled gently at him, "I guess I know now."

The tension in the air seemed to have eased, and Mac found he was breathing a lot easier.

"You had me worried there for a moment," he confessed.

"Well, I must admit it has taken me a while to think things through and decided to come back, to get my stuff if nothing else."

He tightened his grip involuntarily and shook his hand, "I wouldn't want that."

She turned to look at him, and Mac could see the indecision in her eyes, so he waited her out.

"I was jealous," she blurted out, a flush seemed to be rising from her chest to her cheeks. "I saw Quinn and how comfortable she was around you. Then I heard about your history, and I was certain, for a moment there, that you would want to pick up where you guys left off. It took all my energy just to act normally the whole day."

He leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. "There is nothing for you to worry about. Nothing. I know I haven't given you a lot of reasons to trust me for a while, but I assure you, there is nowhere I would rather be. Now that we are together, there is nothing that I wouldn't do to make sure it stays that way."

He leaned back to look deeply into her eyes, and saw the swirling of emotions there. Slowly, he started to lean forward again, his lips seeking out hers.

They had not been so close to one another since before Robin. As their breaths mingled together, he suddenly realized how much he missed the feel of her lips under his.

The pressure was soft and gentle. He pressed softly, savouring the reconnection. It wasn't an urgent, passionate kiss, but a soft re-affirmation of his commitment to hers.

When he pulled back, he wrapped his hand around her and simply sat together, breathing together, enjoying being beside one another.

Yes, this was what perfect felt like.


	5. Being Clear

**Title: **Living5 – Being Clear

**Author: **KiKi

**Disclaimers:** All the CSI: NY characters belong to CBS and Alliance Atlantis and all those who own them rightfully.

**Spoilers:** Admissions

**Notes: **Thanks to all of you who reviewed & PM'ed me… it's been a long time but finally my eyes are working normally – or as normal as they will for me…(knock on wood). My apologies for not replying to the reviews individually - I did read them, but I couldn't keep at the screen for too long when I posted my last chapter and it seemed weird replying almost 2 weeks afterwards... but I did read them and thank you all!

I'm not too sure if I should continue this story arch… it seems cruel to take Mac & Stel on the rollercoaster rides of emotions just because I happen to like it… so I'll list it as Complete for now… and see how it goes… if after I have re-watched _Personal Foul_ and found some steamy material… if not… this should be it, tied in a big pretty bow :). I'm getting a plot bunny in my head after watching last night's premier anyway…

Anyway, please review and let me know what you think!

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Stella wondered if it was normal to have butterflies in her stomach every time she saw him. It was cliché, but she really could sense his presence – maybe anthropologically speaking, her body was just more in-tuned to his now that they were finally co-habiting.

And right now, she was hoping the hair at the back of her neck would stand up and let her know he was outside her door, waiting to resume what they had abruptly left unfinished when she got called in.

Mac had had the night off – one that he desperately needed, so she hadn't expected him at Robert Greggs' scene. The brass had called him in, she realized later, when words that Inspector Gerard's daughter was part o the suspect pool. Silently, she hated the brass for placing their needs for playing games with the media and public than the well-being of their top CSI.

It didn't mean she hadn't been glad to see him though. The moment she had realized he had been at her scene – _their_ scene – she had turned around and smiled. She had never been a shy person by nature, but at that moment, she had felt like a high school girl who just had met her Prince Charming for the first time.

And he had reciprocated, and held her eyes until Flack cracked his "You two've been working together for way too long" line.

Maybe they had, or maybe they had simply become more connected with one another because now they were together in every way.

It had not been an easy road; they had numerous ups and downs. His reluctance, her insecurities – all the emotions had played a role in almost terminating their personal, and quite possibly their professional, relationship. She was glad they had that talk, though; right after Shelby had left and returned to Jersey.

She was scared, and worried. She had been Mac's best friend for so long, the one person who knew him better than anyone, for so long, that the appearance of Shelby threatened her. Quinn Shelby had a history with Mac that she hadn't been privy to, and that made Stella Bonasera uncomfortable.

That night was the turning point for her, she knew. Never before had she trusted anyone with her emotions, with her inner most thoughts, but she just admitted out loud her jealousy of Quinn Shelby, and heard his re-assurance. He knew what she needed, and he knew to tread gently with her. He treasured her, and had broken down the last of her walls.

And so, here she was, in her apartment, after a rather hard case, waiting for him to arrive. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and noted that it had already been 2 hours since she had arrived home. Butterflies were appearing in her stomach, and her unease grew.

What if –

She cut herself off mentally, and shook her head as if to clear her thinking. She would not doubt Mac Taylor. The man made a promise, and the honour he held would not allow him to break it.

If Stella Bonasera had read Mac Taylor wrong on that point, then she was not worthy to be a cop and CSI at the NYPD.

Finally, she heard the keys jingled and the door creaked.

He looked haggard, she thought, and lost in thought, as she moved up to kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," she murmured, her had slipping into his bigger one with ease and took his briefcase with the other, depositing it against the book shelf on their way to the living room.

"Hey," he replied. His voice sounded distanced, she realized, and his eyes were hollow. Something was on his mind, something big. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

Immediately, she had jumped to the worst case scenario, that he found their personal or professional relationship to be too much and he needed out. Her breath hitched and she had trouble swallowing. She was scared, and worried, with anger bubbling just underneath the surface.

Maybe she really should consider a change in career, after all.

"You want anything to drink, Mac?" she plunged forward, her voice wavering just a little. She stood up and was ready to head to the kitchen for an escape when his hand shot out and grabbed hers tightly.

"Stay," he requested in a soft voice. He looked at her intently, watching her.

She stood beside him, waiting.

"I think Flack might have made us," he muttered finally. "Stella, if Flack can figure it out, there is no keeping this a secret."

He actually sounded conflicted, and Stella's heart constricted in pain. He was ending things, she was sure. The anger suppressed earlier fired up, and she pulled her hand away from his forcefully before turning her fiery gaze at him.

"You don't get to do this to me again, Mac Taylor," she hissed. Tears were pooling in her eyes but she refused to acknowledge them. "It was bad enough the last time you drew back from wherever it was that we were heading, but you don't get to do it a second time."

He continued to look at her, and opened his mouth as if to rebut, but Stella cut him off before he could formulate his thought.

"Do you enjoy breaking my heart? Do you find some hidden pleasure in giving me hope and letting me believe that I could really, really have a happily-ever-after with a man I love? Or are you really that obtuse to realize that it hurts, so freaking much, every time when we were heading somewhere personally and you had to pull away because you were ready?

I was perfectly happy waiting on the sidelines, Mac, just watching you and seeing you happy, but no, you had to come and worm your way into my life, so much so that I can't see straight when I think about not having you with me. What have I done to you, Mac, that you would do that to me? Do you enjoying seeing how much I am hurting now, when I am in love with you and here you are thinking of all the implications of why it isn't a good idea and why we'd better off not doing this?"

She fired her words rapidly, barely pausing to take a breath. She was shivering, from sadness, from anger. She probably should not have said all that she had, but someone had got to start looking after Stella Bonasera again, and this time, she would trust nobody but herself with that task.

Sometime during her tirade, she had lost the battle with her tears. They left their mark on her face, marking her weakness. It was not fair, absolutely not fair. Just a few days ago, she was smiling at him and thinking of herself as the happiest woman and just a few hours ago, she was contemplating the best way to escape all this hustle in the city and just spend some time with the man she loved.

But as Sister Ann used to say, who said the world was fair?

All the dreams and hope lay shattered between them now, she thought wearily. Her legs were threatening to give under her, and so she chose to get down onto the floor gracefully. She refused to let Mac Taylor witness how her world would collapse.

Now that the tears had broken the final barrier, they wouldn't stop. She was waiting, for him to be out of her life once again.

She heard footsteps, and when she braced for her door closing, it never came. Instead, a warm towel appeared in front of her, and gently, tenderly, wiping away traces of her tears.

She tried to turn her face away from him, but Mac Taylor was nothing but insistent. He kept on his tender ministration, ignoring the fact that it would be useless since fresh tears were falling down just as he wiped away the old ones.

"You really need to stop jumping to conclusion and let me finish talking," he finally murmured calmly, his hands moving to grasp hers again despite her reluctance. "Stella, look at me, look at me."

When she acquiesced, he held her gaze, then gently reached out for a brief caress.

Stella fought the urge to look away. The intensity in his eyes prompted her to stay put and wait. She was rewarded when he gave a small smile and began speaking again.

"I didn't mean to upset you with my comments. I'm just tired tonight, and I guess I wasn't aware of how sensitive you are – we both are – to those words. I just wanted to talk it out with you."

She kept silent, but her tears had slowed a little and she found herself breathing a little easier.

"I need you to trust me, Stella, because I know damn well that this is my last chance with you and I am not going to blow it away just because some idiots at the lab can't keep out of others' businesses. We both know this is bigger than just how we feel. There are cases at stake, and criminals may be let out because of technicality. I just need to talk with you, to find out where things are."

She felt colours returning to her cheeks, a little sheepish now that Mac's words had gotten through to her.

"Technically, I still work for you," she offered, "and you can't afford to give Sinclair any more ammunition against you."

"To hell with Sinclair," he muttered, which caused her to chuckle. "Really, Stella, there is no rule against us being in a relationship. We don't even have to make it public – I just won't do your evaluations any longer."

She weighed his words carefully, pondering the implications behind his proposal.

"You realize this doesn't solve the problem with Sinclair."

"As I said, to hell with Sinclair. We didn't do anything against the rules; there is nothing he can use against either of us."

She kept quiet, still digesting all that he was saying. His hands reached for hers again, and this time, she let him hold her. He was warm and solid, the anchor that she had been searching her whole life. A little discomfort with Sinclair was worth it.

Solemnly, she nodded, "We tell the team, and the rest of the lab can learn about it when they learn about it."

His smile was bright, and she couldn't help but mirrored him. A relationship changed people, she realized. They had both changed. More open, more faith, more patience.

He tugged her closer, and she went willingly and snuggled up to him. The floor was hard under them, but neither seemed to have noticed.

"I meant what I said, Stel," he said softly against her hair. "I meant it when I say I am not going to blow my last chance of being with you."

"You better mean it, mister," she retorted.

"Oh, I mean it, alright," she could hear the mirth in his voice. "How can I let you go now that you have finally admitted that you love me?"

She must have tensed up, because he was quick to squeeze her gently and plopped a kiss on her forehead, "Hey, what did I just say about jumping to conclusion?"

She was still tense – what if she had rushed things? What if –

"Stella Bonasera, let's be clear about something: I have no intention of letting the woman I love go, and so I am just going to keep holding onto you until you get that into your head."


End file.
